An Unexpected Visitor
by lilyangelica
Summary: Wilson wakes to find someone else in his apartment. The question of his identity remains even after his sexuality has been confirmed. *Warning* There will be a lot of slash, some of it not entirely consensual. Please don't read if this offends you.
1. The first encounter

Wilson woke sweatily. Tangled and panicked he struggled to hear the noises of the apartment building above the heavy pant of his breathing. Something had woken him, and beneath the disorientation he felt a subtle relief. The dream he had been having was not the sort he allowed himself any more. Unable to gauge what exactly had jerked him from it, he began unwillingly to dwell on the content of his dream. He had got as far as House's stubble against his cheek when he heard the noise again.

The apartment was empty; it had been empty for a long time. Wilson lay alert in his bed, aurally scanning the area for the source of the sound. Living alone had always made him feel more secure – the mess was his own, he had control over the TV, he could take up as much of the bed as he wanted. All the same, on nights like this he sometimes wished there was someone he could wake and whisper to. Someone he could protect.

The sound began again, and now Wilson identified it as footsteps. As they approached his door, his breathing became slower and shallower until he was almost holding his breath. The room was pitch black, almost too dark for him to see his own hand as he reached to the bedside table for something to use as a weapon. Wilson's first instinct was to turn on a light, but he quickly realised that the only advantage he had over this intruder was that he would be able to see better in the dark. If this person dared venture into the bedroom, Wilson would probably not be noticed at all, and if he was he would still be all but invisible. Far better to remain here, safe and prepared to defend himself, than venture out and face a burglar who was undoubtedly armed and unlikely to respond to a polite request that he leave.

And so when Wilson's door was pushed open he didn't scream for help. He lay motionless, hoping to be left alone. Instead he heard steps coming towards his bed. Slightly lurching steps. Zombie steps. Or the steps a cripple might take if he left his cane outside.

Wilson stopped breathing completely, terrified and curious at the same time. He was more than surprised when his cover was ripped off and the cold night air hit his body. Completely frozen with shock, Wilson forgot that he wasn't wearing pyjamas and strained his eyes into the darkness for a glimpse of this intruder - he couldn't lash out until he knew exactly where they were.

Suddenly, Wilson felt a hand cover his mouth. He tried a belated scream, but no sound emerged. "Shhhhhhhhhhhhh" hissed a voice, deep, low and touched with mockery. The shush was long and seemed to contain more than a little desire. Suddenly the reality of the situation hit Wilson – his nudity and the presence of a strange man just above him. As the jolt of fear passed through him, he felt another parallel jolt. The man's other hand ran down his chest, and Wilson wondered whether he was dreaming this surreal situation. The long fingers were tracing slowly down him until they reached his crotch, touching him carefully and seeming to feel for a reaction. Wilson steeled himself to remain unaffected, but he couldn't hide the desire this encounter was provoking in him. Somehow his terror made the moment all the more vital, and the adrenaline he had felt on first hearing the footsteps was now serving an altogether more pleasurable purpose.

The stranger removed his hand from Wilson's mouth after it became clear that he wasn't going to scream again. The hand made its way to his wrist instead, and was followed by the other hand down Wilson's other side. The man moved so that he was directly over him, pinning his wrists to the bed. Wilson began to struggle, coming back to himself and realising how dangerous and wrong this situation was. The man above him seemed to have expected this, and didn't loosen his hold at all. Instead he moved himself down Wilson's frame until his head was poised directly above his groin. At the touch of the intruder's breath on his cock, Wilson forgot to struggle for a full ten seconds before remembering that not only was he morally opposed to casual sex, but he was also firmly heterosexual.

The breath on his groin became a warm tongue as soon as he resumed his struggle for freedom, perhaps because its owner realised that it would take more than just teasing to keep him docile. The feeling of the tongue running over him as it licked at the very tip of his cock before running its way down the sensitive underside had Wilson all but still for at least a minute. As soon as his moral outrage returned, he felt himself being encompassed by a mouth so warm and tight that he forgot himself completely. As that devilish tongue continued to swirl around him he began to buck his hips shamelessly, panting and swearing under his breath as he lost all sense of where he was or who was doing this to him.

As his orgasm approached the hands on his wrists tightened and he realised that he had spent all this time imagining the same face on the anonymous man attached to his crotch. House. At the thought that this could be him, that he could be sharing his bed with House right now - that this was House's tongue, House's throat, House's stubble brushing against him - Wilson came in a great shuddering wave of fulfilled desire.

When he recovered from the orgasm and the aftershocks which had left him prone and panting on the bed, Wilson listened for his anonymous lover. There was no sound, and when he turned the light on he saw that the only traces of the whole encounter were the rumpled sheets – even his come had disappeared, presumably swallowed. Wilson turned the light back off, and left the mystery of the strange man's motive for the morning. Tonight, all he could do was sleep. With luck, he could return to the delicious and forbidden dream which had been so rudely interrupted.


	2. Ramifications

**Author's note: I'm afraid there's no slash in this instalment – I felt a little bad about the simplicity and dirtiness of the first chapter. Don't worry, there will be more where that came from, probably in the next chapter and possibly the one after. **

The next morning, Wilson awoke with a sated feeling which he took a second to place. As the events of that night returned to him, he found himself unable to dismiss them entirely as a dream. Surely everything had been too real, too crisp and yet confused at the same time. Then again, the experience did have a misty, disorientating feel in his mind. It may well have been a dream, particularly given the frustration he had been feeling since the breakdown of his latest marriage. And the amount of whisky he had downed before bedtime. Wilson decided to put it down as a dream until further evidence arose, and got up to make himself breakfast.

He managed to resist the urge to inspect his lock for a good 15 minutes as he meticulously prepared and ate a large stack of pancakes. This was the food he normally made for his partner after a night of sex, and it seemed the habit was so ingrained that he even performed it when said partner was most likely a figment of his imagination. He downed the pancakes at double speed so that he could search his apartment for clues without abandoning his breakfast, and the pretence that he was too sensible to believe that last night had really happened.

Upon finding no signs of a break-in, Wilson decided that the intruder was either a dream, or knew how to pick locks. Although he knew which was more likely, he was still loath to concede that the hottest sexual encounter he had had in years was in his head. There was a third option, one that Wilson hardly dared contemplate for fear of disappointment. House had a key.

It's not that Wilson gave it to him, although he would have done had he been asked. But he knew that House had one made, years ago, when Wilson demanded one of him after having to break the lock of his front door. When he discovered upon entering that House was on the floor in a drunken and drug induced stupor - already arranged in the recovery position in a typically Housian display of quick thinking, medical expertise and self destruction - he knew that he couldn't risk being locked out again if the worst ever happened. House had been so petulant over the necessity of having another key cut that Wilson knew he had injured his pride. Which was why he never brought up the fact that his key had gone missing for a few hours at lunchtime that day, and had returned smelling more of machinery than it should have done. If retaliating made House feel better about the situation, Wilson decided to allow it. Who was he to question House's habitually twisted logic?

Now he wished he didn't have that knowledge. It could only lead to more fantasies, more hidden blushes and enraptured gazes. Wilson had to spend every day on his guard against House, terrified of letting him see how he felt. He hardly trusted himself to keep it up this morning.

When Wilson reached the hospital he watched House carefully for signs of a change in their relationship. He wasn't surprised when he found none – if House was the one who had done this, hiding his identity must be the precursor to another mind game. Why would he go to all that effort simply to reveal himself the next day?

Unless this was some sort of test. Could House have been checking how easy he was, how suitable for a relationship? Wilson wondered vaguely if he had passed as he sat over his paperwork listing possibilities in his head. His first hope had been that this meant House had feelings for him too, but if so surely House would have taken instead of simply giving him pleasure. In fact, when was the last time House had given him anything? Wilson stopped this line of thought immediately, in case he convinced himself that his mystery intruder wasn't his secret love, but a semi-rapist stranger. That thought was too sleazy and frightening to entertain.


	3. The same dream twice?

Wilson had spent the last week sleeping with his blinds half open, which was why he was so surprised when he woke up to impenetrable darkness

**Author's note: I'm new to all of this – it would really help me if you'd review and tell me where I'm going wrong. I've never written fan fiction before, so I'd really appreciate any input.**

Wilson had spent the last week sleeping with his blinds half open, which was why he was so surprised when he woke up to impenetrable darkness. It seemed his night visitor could move quietly when he wanted to – the exaggerated footsteps which had announced his arrival the first time began only after the room had been sealed of any light. The first of them woke Wilson, and the second let him know what was coming. By the time the third footstep resounded around the empty room, Wilson had reached a decision.

When the blanket was ripped from him he didn't move, waiting to find out what was going to happen. As he felt hands on him, running up and down his chest before rubbing both his nipples, the only sound he made was a shuddering sigh of expectation. The man above him let out a slight chuckle when he saw that there was to be no resistance, and for a second Wilson felt embarrassed, as though he had given in too easily. But now that there was no need to pin his wrists, the man was free to use his hands wherever he wanted. This could only be an advantage, Wilson decided. Then he felt a hot mouth over one of his nipples, and he forgot all about it.

As the mouth worked its way down his body, licking and nipping as it went, Wilson continued to lose control. The tongue swirled its way down his torso as the intruder's hands continued to run all over him. Those hands were hypnotic, magnetic. Their movement was just as fascinating as the scrape of the tongue over his skin. They played him like some exotic instrument as he lay there, passive and euphoric.

Soon the mouth had made its way down below his stomach, to the area just above his groin. There it stopped, sucking and biting as Wilson shook beneath it in pleasure and anticipation. He could feel the love bite, and knew from experience how vivid it would be in the morning. It dawned on him that this interloper was marking him out, making it impossible for him to undress in front of anyone else. Wilson's outrage was shortlived, dimming as he surrendered himself to the feelings running through him. After a few seconds, however, the mouth moved away from him, and he felt its absence with a great wave of frustration. Bucking his pelvis, Wilson desperately tried to regain the sensations that had been coursing through him only seconds ago.

A hand on his hip steadied him, and he felt the heat of the man above him drawing closer. Then the mouth was on him, sucking him urgently and deeply right down into the throat. This was so unexpected, so paralysingly erotic, that Wilson thought he would come right then and there. He was glad he hadn't when he felt the owner of the mouth begin to move, lazily at first but increasing the pace as Wilson thrust beneath him. The man's hands had moved down until they were cupping his balls, tugging and caressing. Wilson was almost delirious with pleasure, on the brink of losing himself completely, when the hands moved yet again.

Somehow his inability to guess where they would appear next and his powerlessness against them in the darkness pushed Wilson even further, until he was on the brink of an orgasm. All it took was one finger thrust unexpectedly into him and Wilson was gone, coming harder than he had in years. Right at the critical moment, as he was about to lose himself completely, he heard himself gasp House's name.

When Wilson woke, he found the blinds in exactly the same position as he had left them when he went to bed. Something about this infuriated him, and he avoided House for the rest of the day, just in case.


	4. A trouble shared

**Thanks to everyone who's reviewed this so far; and everyone else, if you could possibly take a few seconds to give me some constructive criticism it would honestly mean a lot to me. Pretty please and thanks again!**

Wilson brushed past House on the way out of the hospital, and managed to get at least two paces closer to the door before the handle of a cane snared his ankle. He dived spectacularly to the floor, cursing loudly as he saw his briefcase popped open and his paperwork scattered across the foyer. Flushing red beneath the amused eyes of the nurses, he scrambled across the floor to gather his stuff, half aware of House's chuckle in the background.

"Isn't your patient dying?" He snapped at House in a belated attempt to prevent him from making a scene in such a public place.

"Aren't all of yours?" House shot back. Wilson rose from his haunches and rubbed the back of his neck, all the miseries of his day coming back to him.

"Yes, House, all my terminal cancer patients are, in fact, terminal. Yet somehow I manage without throwing my friends to the floor whenever they fail to greet me, or whatever the hell it is you think I've done to you now."

"Think you've done? You haven't talked to me in days! And no", House tapped him on the chest with his cane as Wilson began to stammer his protests, "you are not more busy than usual. There have been no cancer epidemics. There have never in the history of science been any recorded cancer epidemics. Oncology is the most stable, predictable, boring, Wilsonesque branch of medicine it is possible to specialise in, and yet somehow you have mustered the mental momentum to avoid me - and without any cause, too. Congratulations on your newfound originality."

House began to stump back towards the lifts, leaving Wilson speechless and still holding a jumbled pile of papers. He stuffed them haphazardly into his briefcase as he raced after House. He wasn't sure what to say, but he knew something had to be said. "House!" He called, and it seemed House's shoulders hunched slightly more at the desperation in his voice. Wilson skidded past House and turned to block his way. "I'm sorry, House. Come over tonight? Pizza and porn?" Pizza and porn had never before failed to lure House to his apartment, but today he just shook his head.

"Can't. Dying patient. So inconvenient when they do that." With that, House nudged Wilson to one side with his cane and limped away. Wilson sighed exaggeratedly to himself, aware that everyone in the vicinity had their eyes on him, and made for his car.

Wilson returned to his apartment in a foul mood which refused to lift. He went to bed still making aggrieved speeches to House in his head, and woke up buzzing with frustration and resentment. It took him a few seconds after waking to realise that it was still the middle of the night, and to remember what that usually meant. When he heard the now familiar steps coming towards him, Wilson knew exactly what he was going to do.

As the man approached, Wilson silently snaked his hands beneath his pillow, feeling for the cold metal of the torch which usually never left the pocket of his lab-coat. His gripped it in one hand as he tried to determine exactly where the intruder was. He had already worked out that as the thin beam offered very little peripheral illumination, he would have only one chance to shine it straight in the intruder's face.

He readied himself to flick on the torch, but just as he was about to strike, he felt the full weight of the man launched on top of him. Wilson was momentarily winded and didn't have the presence of mind to push the torch deeper under the pillows as he felt the intruder's hands work their way up his arms until they were clutching his fists. He felt long fingers prising the torch from his hands and gave it up readily. Now that he had lost the element of surprise it was useless anyway.

Wilson was blinded as the beam shone directly into his face, but he could tell exactly what the man was seeing. A face scrunched in shock, which quickly evolved into mere surprise and then scurried its way through bafflement and into triumphant realisation. There was only one man in the world who knew Wilson well enough to anticipate his every move. But Wilson's grin morphed back into surprise, tinged with a little regret, as he felt the now comfortable weight shift from his torso and heard the thud of angry footsteps leaving his apartment. Whether it was the cunning plan or the moment of understanding Wilson didn't know, but something had wounded his mysterious admirer's pride.


End file.
